


Memento Mori

by LemonWicky



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, The Killustrators, The Killustrators (D&D Podcast)
Genre: And Oswalt is my favorite character and since he's a necromancer, F/M, I decided to do this? QvQ, IDK if this is gonna turn to shit in my hands but this is what I got., So this is a fanfiction. Of a super small podcast. That y'all should listen to., uh. - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 23:58:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17011596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonWicky/pseuds/LemonWicky
Summary: Morrigan puts duty above all else.Until she meets him.Or how Oswalt should be the demigod son of the Goddess of Death.





	Memento Mori

**Author's Note:**

> UH YEAH. I'm actually nervous about this. Coz this might be the first fanfic for the Killustrators and I'm nervous about how Oswalt's player is gonna take this. 
> 
> (You should totally follow adamthreetimes on twitter.)

In moments like these, I think back to my life as a mortal. I had taken so much for granted, and yet, I could never have imagined the scope of the world beyond my puny kingdom. It puts forth a lot of perspectives and I, out of all of my godly peers, know the mortals best. Besides Vecna, but that hateful little wretch hardly cares for the mortals like I do. I led armies of loyal knights and peasants constantly sought a court with me. I granted as much as I could but mortals are such short lived creatures. 

I enjoy walking among them. Disguised as a simple cleric, they spare me nary a glance as I walk among their bustling cities or rural, isolated towns. A simple cleric of death, of the grave, offering funeral rites for all. My most loyal reapers follow close behind. They protect me, although I should say they think they protect me. Azrael and Samael were once mortals that ascended through their incredible strength and faith in me. I have never met mortals like them, but the mortals still manage to amuse. 

Such as the two bandits following behind me. They wish to rob me. I lead them into a darkened corner of this small village near a marshland, away from the eyes of the less educated and easily spooked. 

“Alright, pretty lady.” The larger man speaks. “You’re gonna give us all of the gold you have.” 

“I have none.” I reply cooly. Above me, Azrael and Samael squawk with worry. The men disregard the ravens. 

“Bullshit.” The shorter one says. “You do funerals, right? You must make a shitton of gold.” 

“I offer my services for free.” 

A snicker from the larger man. “Then you’re pretty  _ and  _ dumb.” He pulls out a dagger. “I guess I’ll just take whatever gold you do have.” He walks towards me and I raise my hand to stop him. 

“HALT!” The shout startles me. I look beyond the equally startled bandits to see a spindly man, looking extremely nervous. “H-How dare you villains accost a cleric of The Raven Queen! Shame on you, do you have no respect for the dead?!” He says and my eyes widen. A courageous mortal is unexpected. 

The bandits look at each other and begin laughing cruelly. The shorter man goes up to the would-be hero and punches him in the stomach. He falls against the bandit’s arm and the bandit lifts the hero’s head up before punching him in the face. He blacks out and falls to the ground. 

While his comrade deals with my foolhardy rescuer, the larger man advances on me. I feel a rare burst of anger at the display. It is a curious thing…anger. Anger is reserved for the deities of war and battle. For Kord and for Gruumsh, for Bahamut and Tiamat. But I feel the anger of an unjust act. And I have no moment to ponder why. 

“Too bad your knight in shining armor has to die too, lady. Hopefully your Queen can give you both a peaceful afterlife.” He says with sarcasm. 

I huff. Allowing my cloak to fall as I undo the clasps, I feel a primal joy at his gasps of horror at my form. A mortal form I adopt is one of a harpy of raven make. It is quite enjoyable to see the horror in their eyes. 

“I will.” My voice booms in their heads. I see their souls quiver with their mortal fear and I relish in it. I rip their souls asunder, an act that leaves no wounds on their bodies. Their eyes glaze over and they drop. Not dead. Death is when their bodies age and begin to rot. They are less than living and I feel as though it is a just punishment. 

I send their souls to Samael, who takes them and disappears, going back to my fortress in the Shadowfell. My form returns to a more appropriate one. A human woman of dark skin, darker eyes, and yet darker still hair. I dress in a simple cleric’s robe of ebony and go over to my ‘hero’. He is bleeding, so I stop it. I cradle him against my bosom and wait for him to come to. 

He opens his eyes eventually and looks up at me. I see his soul jump with…something? Excitement? Surprise? Amazement? A mixture of all three. 

He begins stuttering and spluttering. I manage to make out an “Are you alright?” I chuckle at his nervousness. 

“Yes. Thank you for your attempt. But I dealt with them.” I turn to point at their prone forms. He follows my finger and then he swallows hard. 

“W-Wow.” 

“Indeed.” 

He slowly starts to get up and he’s still staring at me. “Hello. May I ask your name?” 

I begin to speak but something stops me. His soul is fluttering, like the wings of a hummingbird. Curse my mortal origins but I cannot help but feel an emotion I thought was long gone in my dead heart. 

“You…may call me Morrigan.” I say slowly and he smiles. Something akin to a lovestruckness that puzzles me. 

“That’s a beautiful name.” He says and I cannot help but smile at his innocence. 

“Thank you.” I stand up and walk to my cloak. I pick it up and put it back on. “I must be on my way.” I begin walking away. 

“Wait!” He calls and I turn back to see him walking quickly next to me. “My name is Ernest. I can see you’re a traveller, but that’s no reason to leave so soon, right? You must be tired. Come stay at my home.” He blushes. I do not understand why. “I-I-I mean that its just above the library and I’ve got a guest bedroom. You can stay there so that way you don’t have to pay for an inn or camp out somewhere.” 

I cock my head to the side. Then I remember he believes me to be a simple mortal, like himself. I cannot help the chuckle that bubbles forth and I see him lose whatever confidence he had gained. “Thank you. The offer is nice but I must attend to my duties.” 

He seems to understand. “Well, if you’re ever in my neck of the woods again, come by the library. I’ll hook you up with some books.” 

I bow my head. “Thank you.” I turn and leave, Azrael at my back. Soon, the town is out of sight and I sigh. 

“Mistress?” Azrael’s concerned voice gently prods my attention and I turn to him. “Are you perturbed by that human?” 

The question stills me for a moment. Ernest was…most unusual. He was attracted to me, like most mortal men, but he did not try to force it on me. He was disappointed in my rejection but was not angered by it. I am unused to such…acceptance. It makes me ponder, but it does not worry me. 

“No. I found him…refreshing.” He cocks his head to the side but I give no more. I open a portal to my home and I step through. Thoughts of returning to the small marshland town plague me, but I must attend to my duties first. 

Duty always comes first. 


End file.
